Drake's Boring Ceiling
by firefly-hwufanficwriter
Summary: (The Royal Romance.) (MC/Drake.) Riley tries to solve the biggest mystery in the land of Cordonia – the mystery of why Drake likes staring at that boring ceiling so much.


**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Choices. This fun game belongs to Pixelberry! :)**

* * *

 **Drake's Boring Ceiling**

* * *

The first time Riley found Drake staring at his ceiling, it was at night, after the opening ball. Feeling very thirsty, she had stumbled through an unfamiliar castle at night, looking for the kitchen so she could get a glass of water. She had the idea that the palace kitchen would be in the lower part of the castle, so she took the stairs…

…and she found Drake, who was lying on the cold, stone floor, staring up at what was presumably a cold, stone ceiling. He had a lit candle next to him. She thought of asking him for directions, but decided against it, because… well, because she didn't want to disturb him. The thought of Drake being a creepy vampire certainly never crossed Riley's mind. Nope.

* * *

The second time Riley found Drake staring at his ceiling, it was in the afternoon, after the Derby garden party but before their secret cronut expedition. Riley had sneaked to the kitchens – she knew the way this time – to check if maybe they DID make cronuts and Liam just didn't know what they were called. Yet no cronuts were to be found, so she decided to return to her room…

…and she found Drake, who was lying on the cold, stone floor, staring up at what was presumably a cold, stone ceiling. Because it was in the middle of the afternoon, sunlight streamed in from a tiny window Riley hadn't noticed before, and she saw that Drake's eyes were opened slightly, just… staring at the ceiling. He didn't seem to have noticed her, and she kept it that way, tiptoeing away before he could. While she now knew that he wasn't a creepy vampire… still, who spent their free time staring at ceilings? And Drake thought _she_ was weird.

* * *

The third time Riley found Drake staring at his ceiling, it was in the morning. Still full of excitement from the winning the first race at the Regatta, she woke up early the next morning. Wanting to walk off her excess energy, she traversed several hallways and corridors…

…and she found Drake, who was lying on the cold, stone floor, staring up at what was presumably a cold, stone ceiling.

Unable to resist her curiosity for _even one second longer,_ Riley boldly stepped into the room, sat on the floor a few inches away from Drake, and lay down, wanting to finally see for herself what the _deal_ was with this _specific_ ceiling. Full of expectations, she looked up and found out…

…that it was _**a really boring ceiling.**_

There were no colorful murals, or intricate engravings, or… anything, really. She just saw block after block of ancient, gray stone. Was this some sort of dungeon in the past?

"Fancy seeing you here, LastName," Drake said. His voice sounded amused, but also slightly hoarse, the way Riley knew her own voice sounded after a very tiring day at work.

Riley was surprised that he wasn't more annoyed at her trespassing into his… well, his ceiling time, but maybe he had used up his grumpiness quota for the week, or something.

"You must have not seen me the previous times, then. I've seen you here-"

"-twice before," Drake finished for her. He sighed. "Of _course_ I knew you were there. Haven't you been _listening_ to what I've been telling you? Always be alert. _Never_ let your guard down, except around people you trust. I knew you were there both of those times. I just didn't say anything since… well, frankly, I didn't _care_ what you were up to."

She huffed, "Oh, thanks a _lot…_ "

* * *

Riley _really_ wanted to ask him why he was always here, staring at this ceiling. After all, as Liam's best friend, he probably had his own room somewhere in the palace, and that room probably had a _much_ more interesting ceiling.

But Drake kept saying that they weren't friends, so to him, they were… acquaintances? Not-enemies? Would he even answer if a not-enemy asked him why he was always staring at a boring ceiling in the lower floors of a royal palace?

Oddly enough, Drake spoke first.

"It's not the lap of luxury," he said, indicating the room around him, "but it's good to be on dry land again. That's the _last_ time I do Maxwell a favor."

"Oh?" Riley asked, surprised. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself out there, though…"

He sighed in annoyance. "It wasn't so much the sailing as everything _before_ that. After I agreed to help, he took me to the boat, and-" Running a hand through his hair, he continued, " _Everything_ was messed up. Rusted equipment, mildew on the sails, some of the ropes needed replacing… it took _hours_ to get it into sailing condition."

She… hadn't known that.

"But Maxwell was there to help, right?'

Drake barked a laugh. "Maxwell? He told his driver to tell his butler to tell his housekeeper to get gallons of vinegar for me to clean the sails." He paused. "And he held up the flashlight while I adjusted the rigging all over the boat. You ever climbed up a mast and readjust the angle of the shroud ten times in the middle of the night?"

Riley blinked. "Uh… no?"

"Well, let's just say that it takes a _really_ long time. And after the sails were clean, I had to hoist them up there to attach them to the boat again. The jib was fine, but the mainsail was a lot heavier… And I didn't wring them out properly because there wasn't enough time, so I had to take them up the mast while they were still wet."

While some of what he was saying sounded confusing… it seemed like he did a lot of work. When she asked if Maxwell had helped him with the sails, he stifled a small yawn before he replied…

"He had no idea how to even climb a mast, so Maxwell and his flashlight just stayed on-deck – and the water dripping from the sails still had a lot of vinegar. You could have pickled him from all the vinegar on him by the time I was finished. Heh."

Feeling guilty now she asked why they hadn't woken her up so she could help – and he made a wry comment about Riley needing her beauty sleep. In retaliation, she made a joke of her own.

"Sailing looks really hard to do… and it seems like something stuffy nobles would learn – well, except for Maxwell, anyway. After all, those nobles own a lot of boats, so they must really like sailing. You might be switching teams, there…"

Beside her, Riley heard Drake sputtering indignantly, as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard. "Me, be like _them?_ I-"

Smiling, she playfully elbowed Drake on the side. "I'm just kidding, Drake," she said, giving a small giggle as she imagined him walking around and giving orders with a snooty expression, acting just like Bertrand. But the funny image dissolved almost immediately, too ludicrous to remain for long. "I know you're loyal to our humble, commoner side."

"Good," he said determinedly.

A pause.

"I didn't learn sailing for… for _fun,_ " he said sarcastically. "Cordonia's an island. Knowing your way around a boat is just practical, so that you don't have any… unfortunate incidents," he finished, sounding a bit glum by the end.

* * *

From her conversation with the prince earlier, Riley knew what Drake was most likely referring to. Liam had told her that when they were young, Liam had felt the call of freedom on the sea, which led to him and Drake sneaking out to the sea with one of the royal boats. After their sea adventure had gone awry, something called a "boom" had knocked Liam overboard. And Drake, without any hesitation, had jumped into the water to save Liam's life.

But Drake didn't know she knew all that.

"What sorts of incidents?"

At her question, he turned his head a little sideways to look at her for a moment. Somehow knowing that her meeting his gaze would embarrass him, Riley kept her eyes on the boring ceiling, which still hadn't revealed to her why it was so fascinating to Drake. A few seconds later, it was as if nothing had occurred, and Drake was looking at the ceiling just like before.

"Let's just say that I went out sailing once, when I was a kid. The weather seemed sunny, so it looked like the perfect time to go out to sea, but then the clouds changed and everything looked gray and stormy. In case you didn't already know this, almost drowning isn't fun, Riley. I wouldn't try it if I were you…"

He trailed off.

Riley noticed that he hadn't mentioned Liam at all in his story. Why hadn't he? Being best friends, it wouldn't have been strange for them to carry out a crazy scheme like that. After all, pretty much all of Liam's childhood stories seemed to include Drake.

"You almost drowned?" she asked, trying to get more information.

"No," Drake said quietly. "Not me."

* * *

They were silent after that – and Riley didn't like it. The last thing she wanted was to make him think of bad memories, and after struggling to think of something else to discuss, she remembered something he had mentioned earlier.

"You said earlier that you had to clean the mainsail and the jib. I know that the mainsail is, well, a sail, but is a jib a sail too?"

"Yeah," he said, the casual tone of his voice a welcome change from the somberness it had held just moments ago. "Normally, the jib is the smaller sail that's closer to the bow, and the mainsail is the larger sail nearer the stern."

 _…Okay._ So, from what he had just said, Riley leaned that the jib was small and the mainsail was large. Got it. But… what were bow and stern again?

She asked as much, and at that, Drake launched into a detailed explanation, using the boring ceiling they had been staring at this whole time to provide a foundation so she could visualize the parts of a boat.

"So, imagine we're sailing towards the window on the right. In that case, the bow, which is the head of the boat would be there on the right," he said, pointing to the right side of the ceiling, "and the stern, which is the tail of the boat, would be on the left," and this time, he moved his arm to point to the left side of the ceiling. "But if we were on a boat, we wouldn't be saying 'left' and 'right;' we would be saying 'port' and 'starboard,' since those are a lot clearer…"

It seemed that he had really taken his boating lessons to heart.

As Riley listened to Drake explain why using proper nautical terms was important while sailing, his voice taking on a slow, relaxed tone as he spoke, she still wondered at the back of her mind why he had agreed to help Maxwell. From his protests in the past regarding his and Maxwell's friendship, Riley had gotten the message, loud and clear, that he didn't like or trust Maxwell very much. Or… anybody else, really. In fact, aside from Liam, Drake didn't seem like he had anybody else until Riley arrived in Cordonia.

She smiled. Not that she would ever tell him that. Privately, she thought that Drake had given so much of his loyalty to Liam that he felt that he had none to give to anybody else – which could be why he kept on insisting that he and Riley weren't friends.

"And," continued Drake, "if you had a bigger crew than we did, you'd have one person just in charge of the boom," this time, he sluggishly made a horizontal line with his hand in the direction of middle-left part of the ceiling before letting his arm drop to his stomach, "which is the metal bar that's connected to the mainsail. You need the control the boom carefully to catch as much wind as possible for the boat to move across the water…"

Or maybe Drake just kept saying that because he didn't have a lot of experience in the friendship department, and assumed that the deep connection he and Liam shared was what it meant to be friends with somebody.

On the other hand, Riley, who _did_ have experience in friendships, knew that you didn't need to promise to live in garden mazes forever or go on dangerous seafaring adventures to consider somebody a friend. Friendship grew from conversation and games and long talks together…

…which were all things that she and Drake had already shared. They had walked a little behind everybody else during their cronut expedition to chat; he had challenged her to a ski race and then _totally_ cheated by taking an illegal head start; and they had shared personal stories and sentiments with each other during the meteor shower, as well as during their time together in Olivia's wine cellar, after Riley had walked down that winding staircase.

She definitely considered him a friend now – and not only a friend, but one of her closest friends here. With everything that had happened, how could she not?

But she probably shouldn't tell him. Wouldn't want him to die of shock, after all.

* * *

Belatedly, she realized that he had stopped talking. Wondering if something was wrong, she turned her head and saw that Drake…

…had fallen asleep.

After waiting a few moments to see if he would wake up – and he didn't – Riley propped up her head on her arm to take a closer look at him.

It was strange. Normally frowning in suspicion, or smirking after he made sarcastic comments, Drake's face seemed completely different – calm, as if all worries had faded away as he traveled the world of dreams. Lines of worry from years of wariness at court seemed to have all but disappeared, leaving behind the peaceful countenance of a man who was taking his well-earned moment of rest. His chest rose and fell with every breath, the slow pace reflecting the relaxed state of a man who, when awake, seemed barely able to unwind when inside the palace.

And while it was slightly endearing to see him so peaceful – he really _was_ quite handsome when he wasn't making sardonic jokes about rose ceremonies – Riley had to roll her eyes when she recalled his earlier words.

" _Always be alert._ Never _let your guard down."_

Drake had told her that in reproach earlier, but _he_ didn't seem to be following his own rules. Sleeping peacefully like this next to her was to show vulnerability – a far cry from the alertness he had advised her to have, and completely contrary to everything he had been warning her about all this time…

…and suddenly, she remembered how that second sentence had ended.

"Never _let your guard down, except around people you trust."_

Did he trust her?

Maybe he was just tired, since he had pretty much single-handedly gotten the boat ready for sailing, and had apparently spent hours doing so. Maybe he would have fallen asleep no matter who had been inside this stone room with him.

Or… maybe he had felt comfortable enough to fall asleep because Riley was the one in here with him; because he trusted her. She didn't know.

Yes, they had had their moments – the 'moments in between,' as he had so eloquently called them. Riley hadn't expected such heartfelt sentiments from the man. But maybe that was just another way he separated himself from the nobles he despised – by being direct about however he was feeling, whether it was positive or negative.

But even with all of their conversations and the time they had spent together, she was still mystified as to how he truly perceived her. Oh, he seemed to tolerate her well enough. Sometimes even went out of his way to speak to her, though that was probably partly out of boredom, too. And, though very rare, there were times when he had opened his heart to her, causing her to wonder why such a guarded, cautious man saw her as somebody worthy of confiding in…

…but then he would soon step back, and treat her as a near-stranger once more, to the point that Riley had no clue how he truly saw her. Drake's trust seemed to be like the horizon beyond the sea – always out of reach – and that seemed to apply to his interactions with everybody around him.

However, what she _did_ know was that, in the short time that they had known each other, Riley had come to trust _him._

When she thought of Drake, she didn't see an unfriendly face, scowling in disapproval. She saw calm horses and fluffy cronuts and snow-capped mountains and shooting stars. A steaming bowl of delicious lobster bisque was also present in her vision, as was a familiar winding staircase

She turned her head to the right to peek at the small window. Judging from the sunlight filtering into the stone room they were in, Riley was sure that around this time, Maxwell would be knocking on her door, wanting to tell her about some public event that she had to attend as one of Liam's suitors.

But that could wait. Lying on this stone floor and looking at this stone ceiling, while watching over the slumbering man who had become one of her closest friends here, was something that she needed – and _wanted_ – to do.

Because one day, she would **_reach_** that horizon.

(And when she did, maybe Drake could _finally_ tell her why he liked this boring ceiling so much.)

* * *

(THE END.) (Originally posted on T-16/06/17.) (F-21/06/18.)

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 **Fanfic notes:** (B01-C10.) This fanfic was inspired by a Drake-related Tumblr post :) After I read, _"Honestly, I'm down to just stare at the ceiling for an entire chapter if we can do it with Drake,"_ I just HAD to try my hand at this scenario XD And so, I can now _honestly_ say that I _have_ written a whole story about… a ceiling XD Riley never found out that the reason why Drake keeps staring at that particular ceiling, but I'll tell you :) There are a few clues, but the most obvious one is when he said that the room is "not the lap of luxury" :D That room is inside the royal palace, so Drake is close by if Liam needs him. But at the same time, it's very plain, just stone walls and a stone ceiling. Drake likes that boring room and that boring ceiling because there is absolutely nothing there that reminds Drake of the irritating pretension and unnecessary luxury that he negatively associates with nobility like Maxwell and Olivia :)

 **About my main Pixelberry fanfic:** Hello! :) If you like Pixelberry's Hollywood U or Pixelberry's Red Carpet Diaries, then I encourage you to read my MC/Hunt fanfic "NYTMC 1: Not Your Typical Meet-Cute." It currently has 219,000 words (64 chapters), and it is written from Thomas Hunt's perspective :D

 **(Thanks for reading! :D Reviews make me smile! ^_^)**


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